


Quarantine Diaries

by nachuma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nachuma/pseuds/nachuma
Summary: Sam and Dean's thoughts on being quarantined in the bunker during the current health crisis.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Quarantine Diary: Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in a long time, but I started thinking how the Winchesters would deal with orders to stay at home and couldn't resist.

_**Sam:** _

**Day 0**

The news is worrying, but I’m not really too worried. After all, Kansas is hardly a hotbed for disease, and the population density is nowhere like Seattle or New York. Still, the way this thing spread across Asia and Europe is pretty frightening, so I figured we should at least be prepared. After all, what I’m most afraid of is not getting sick, but of being stuck inside with a bored Dean Winchester for any length of time. 

I made Dean sit down and write a list of everything he thinks he might want or need for the next few weeks, and made a point of saying that it had to include more than booze, burgers and pie. I guess what I should really do is come up with some projects to keep him occupied. For myself, I’m looking forward to actually having the time to catalog and maybe even index some of the books here, so we won’t have to do so much digging every time we come across something we haven’t seen before. 

Maybe Dean can tune up all the cars in the garage, rebuild a few engines. Maybe I’ll suggest he stop by the auto supply shop on our stock-up run this afternoon. 

**5 pm**

We had to go to all the stores in a 30-mile radius just to get a few rolls of toilet paper. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks. 

Dean filled the back of the Impala with beer and whiskey, and loaded up whatever he could find in the snack aisles. It looked like everyone had the same idea—all the chips, frozen burritos and pizzas were gone, except for some dented and torn packages. Dean bought them anyway. 

I picked up whatever meat, fruits and veggies I could find, fresh and frozen, then we hit the Walmart for things like batteries, a few decks of cards, and packs of t-shirts and underwear. Who knows when we’ll be able to get to a laundromat? At least we won’t be worrying about bloodstains for a while. I hope. Oh, yeah, and I stocked up on bandages, antibiotic ointments and heartburn remedies. We may need it for those burritos. 

**Day 1**

So far, so good. We sat down and discussed a plan for the next week or so—well, I did, anyway. I think we have to keep to some kind of schedule. It sounds like mostly we’ll have to stay away from other people, but everything else can go on as usual. I can go for my runs in the morning. Dean can...well, he can work on the car. We can do some sparring, like we used to when we were kids. And there’s always Netflix, and Busty Asian Beauties.com. 

**Day 3**

I haven’t managed to get much done with the books. It looks like the Men of Letters had a pretty good cataloging system already set up. We just never had the time to learn how to use it. Maybe that’s what I should be doing—scanning the card file into the computer so we can have easier search access. 

Dean’s been on a surveying mission all around the bunker—checking what needs repairing, what can or should be upgraded, what would be better or more accessible somewhere else. I think he’s still planning a bigger space for his DeanCave. Maybe some place he can put a pool table. 

We’ve been playing poker for the past few nights, sharpening our skills. Dean’s still better than me at bluffing, but I’m catching up. Or maybe I’m just getting more familiar with his tells. I think we’ll both be able to clean up when we can get back to a real game again.

**Day 5**

Dean’s been hammering and pounding all around the bunker for two days now. I don’t know what he’s doing, except at least he’s keeping busy and not pestering me. He’s probably building a batcave. Or maybe a special room for his porn collection. 

I’ve been thinking we need to gather all the books in Bobby’s various collections, together with the entire Campbell family library, and combine them all with the Men of Letters books, weeding out duplicates (or maybe, like Bobby used to, keeping copies of the more valuable duplicates somewhere else. Somewhere safe.) I’ll have to decide which ones are the most valuable or rarest.

I wonder if Jody still has all those boxes she pulled out of Bobby’s storage unit, what was it, 5 years ago? 6? If not, where are they now? 

**Day 7**

I can’t seem to focus on any of the books. Every time I try to sit down and read, my eyes start to hurt and, when I close them, I fall asleep. I’m not meant to be a cataloger. I was supposed to be a lawyer, not a librarian, dammit! 

Dean’s been suspiciously quiet. He’s building something in one of the big storage rooms. I think it might be another Malik box. I wonder if he’s planning to use it himself, or put me in it.

**Day 9**

We’re out of beer. And eggs, milk and vegetables, but that’s not what Dean is complaining about. I think I’ll send him out to the store alone so maybe I can get some cataloging done. Except I wonder if he’ll come back with anything besides beer? Maybe I should go along.

He still has the bandanas we wore in Wyoming in 1861. He’s actually excited to have a real reason to wear them again. At least they don’t look as silly as those little hand-made masks for sale on Etsy. Yes, I looked at Etsy. All the ones on Amazon can’t be delivered for at least 3 months. 

Later: The town is deserted. It looks like those post-Apocalyptic movies, with just an occasional newspaper blowing through the empty streets. Except the real apocalypse didn’t look anything like that. 

The grocery store was empty. I mean, literally, empty of food as well as people. There were a few dented cans and, for some reason, an entire shelf of Velveeta. Even Dean didn’t take that. 

**Day 11**

I’ve given up on trying to read. I can’t even concentrate on Netflix. I’m starting to understand ADD, and maybe Dean, too. 

Dean is pacing, looking for something to work on. I almost wish there was a case I could send him on, except the newspapers and even online “news of the weird” haven’t been reporting anything except virus and quarantine news. I don’t know if the monsters are also observing the stay at home rules, or if there’s just no one to report them. I guess, with fewer people outside, there are no mysterious animal attacks or disappearing hikers. Maybe I can call Jody and see if she’s heard of anything. 

I had an idea this afternoon, and went online to look up recipes for pies. Maybe I can get Dean started on a new hobby. If we can find the ingredients, anyway. 

**Day 12**

Dean was out all day looking for flour, butter, sugar and apples. I think maybe I’ve created a monster.

**Day 14**

I have to keep telling myself to count my blessings. We’re both healthy, and at least we have enough room so that we can slam a door or two and be alone for a while. I’m so glad we’re not stuck in one of those little motel rooms we grew up in. Though at least there would be other people there, so I could get some conversation besides grunts or complaints. 

Garth set up a video chat with him and Bess and the kids so we could see everyone. The kids are getting big. Getting to be a handful, too. Maybe living with Dean isn’t as bad as I thought. One bored and hyperactive kid is better than three....

Dean’s taken to going for a drive in the afternoons. There’s nowhere really to go, so I think he just needs to get out and turn Baby loose and pretend things are normal again. He’s usually only gone a couple of hours and comes back with some drive-through meals and looking much happier. Calmer, anyway. That makes me happier. 

**Day...18? 21?**

All the days are running together. The news is always the same. The food is always the same. The light is always the same down here. It’s like living in a cave. There’s no way to know if it’s day or night, and it doesn’t really matter, either. 

I think I missed a couple of days when neither Dean nor I bothered to get dressed. We’d get up, wander to the bathroom or the kitchen, grab something to eat, then head back to our rooms. I don’t know what Dean did, but I mostly watched some old reruns on my laptop, maybe read a few pages in some book, and then took a nap. Got up and did it all over again. I’m really starting to enjoy Gilligan’s Island. It feels a lot like here, except with more people. 

**Day....whatever.**

Dean came busting into my room this morning. Or whatever time it was. He was...excited. Clean. Freshly showered and shaved. He stuck a breakfast burrito—homemade, too!—into my hand and said, “get moving. We’re out of here in 10.”

He sounded so much like Dad that all I could do was stare. “What the hell are you talking about? We can’t go anywhere.”

“Vamp nest about 3 hours south,” he said, taking a bite of his own burrito. “I got the car packed and ready to go. You just need...” he frowned at me, a glint of light in his eyes I hadn’t seen in days...weeks.... “...to get cleaned up. You’re not getting into Baby smelling like that.” He headed to the door, moving fast...moving like he actually had somewhere to go. 

It took me a couple of seconds to gather myself, then I dashed after him. “Wait up!” I called. He was already halfway to the garage. He turned to look at me. “We’re on lockdown.”

He shook his head, amused. “You think we have to observe social distancing with vamps? We’ll have a nice drive, get a little exercise, shake the rust off the old bones, and then come home again. We’re just conducting our essential business. It’s allowed.” He waved a hand airily. “Come on. We deserve some fun.” He disappeared around the corner.

God help me, it did sound like fun. I stared after him for a moment, then, taking a big bite from my burrito, I headed to the shower room. It was definitely time to get moving.


	2. Quarantine Diary: Dean Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's POV.

_**Dean:** _

**Day something**

Sam was getting pretty weird about going into quarantine. I didn’t really see any point to it—after all, we live out on the butt end of nowhere, and if everyone else is in hiding, why do we need to stay inside? But he pointed out that both Chuck and Billie had said that we were out of free passes, so it would suck if, after everything we’d been through, we were done in by a bug. 

I suppose Cas could heal us (maybe) if we only knew where the hell he was. I think he’s still sulking, or maybe still mourning Jack. Besides, there’s no reason to drag him in here. Either he’d just get stuck like us, or he’d take off whenever he felt like it and I’d be pissed at being left behind.

No, it’s better with just Sam and me. At least we know how the other will react. 

**First Full Day**

OK, maybe I was wrong about knowing Sam. I figured he’d spend all his time buried up to his eyeballs in books, finally getting the chance to read to his heart’s content (kind of like that guy in the old Twilight Zone episode whose main desire in life was to lock himself in a vault and read?) Except that didn’t turn out too well for him, did it? I always wondered why, if the whole world was empty, he didn’t just go to some Eyeglass World and pick out a pair of glasses that worked for him.

But never mind.

Anyway, Sam decided to Organize. He said we needed a routine, and actually laid out a schedule, something like: 

6 am: Run around the outside of the bunker. I guess he figured everyone with sense would still be asleep.

7 am: Shower.

7:30 am: Breakfast. Which I guess I’m supposed to cook.

8 am: Work. He even said what we would be doing: he’d be cataloging the books, I’d work on the cars. It didn’t seem to matter that I take care of the damn things all the time, so they’re all in great shape. I guess I can change some spark plugs and steam wash the engines. That should take a couple of hours. 

He didn’t say what I’d do tomorrow, or all the days after that. I think he doesn’t have a very good sense of how long things take. 

Anyway, we had a break today. Today we had to make lists of what we would like to have around in case we were stuck here forever. (He didn’t like my idea of bringing in the pool table—and barmaids—from Freddy’s Bar and Grill. That would keep me busy, and happy, for quite a while.) 

But all he wanted was boring things like food and games. Games? Like Clue or Monopoly? I suggested buying out the entire stock of ammo so at least we could keep up with our target practice. And maybe a deck of cards or two. 

And M&Ms. Peanut ones.

**Later:**

Damn, it sure looks like everyone is taking this seriously. The stores look like a plague of locusts had been through, leaving only half-eaten scraps and squashed cans behind. No toilet paper, either. I insisted that we keep looking till we found some somewhere—I’ve had my time with broad-leaved plants and never, ever want to do that again. And I imagine Sam wouldn’t be too thrilled after that poison ivy incident when he was...

Never mind. I promised never to mention that again. Even after all this time. 

Anyway, I wrote in this journal so that’ll make Sam happy. If he wants a regular schedule, this is the easiest thing I can give him, and maybe it’ll shut him up. Maybe.

**Day 3 (or 4?)**

I guess I should be keeping track of days in here, at least, but what’s the point? I get up, eat, putter around the place, annoy Sam for a while, eat some more, putter some more, watch some porn or Netflix, eat dinner, play cards, listen to music, go to sleep. 

The first couple of days I could see Sam was really excited about looking through all the books, so I left him alone. Sometimes. 

Mostly I wandered around the place. For all the time we’ve been living here, I can’t believe we still keep finding rooms we didn’t know about. The garage, for one thing. We’d been here a year and probably still wouldn’t have found it if it weren’t for that Dorothy chick. 

So I’m making a map of all the rooms, with what’s in them and what shape they’re in. The bathrooms, for instance, can really use an upgrade. The water pressure is great, but the faucets are really old and the pipes can probably use some updating. Or at least some cleaning out. Maybe next time we go out I can get some Dran-O. Wouldn’t want to be stuck here with no plumbing.

Some of the rooms have also taken a beating since we’ve been here. I did replace the door I smashed when I was trying to kill Sam a couple of years ago, but there are some good gouges in the drywall—things that were just cosmetic, so we didn’t bother fixing them. Maybe now’s the time. Maybe get some all-weather carpeting in the dungeon for the next time we have someone locked up. And maybe a half-bath, so we won’t have to let them out to use the facilities. 

Looks like that year I worked construction at Lisa’s might come in handy. Not so sure about installing plumbing, though. I’m sure Sam can find something online about it. 

**Another Day**

I found a small workroom tucked away behind the boiler room. I made a workbench so I can build things if I get bored enough, or at least clean and sharpen all our tools and weapons without messing up one of the nice tables upstairs. There’s even a welding kit. Maybe I can find something cool to build in the MoL library. Or maybe I can ask Sam to find something. That’ll keep both of us busy.

**Another Day**

Sam doesn’t seem as happy with the books as I expected. Every time I come into the library, he’s either sleeping or staring out into space. So many books, so much time. Who’d’ve thought that was a bad thing for Sammy?

**Another Day**

I’m going stir crazy in here. At least there’s plenty of room to move around, not like we’re stuck in one of those tiny motel rooms, but everything. looks. the. same. Everything is beige or gray. There are no windows, so nothing to look at. Sometimes I’ll go outside and sit by the front door, just to see the sun and some different colors. 

I still have things to do: I can try to figure out the plumbing, or try out some recipes (don’t tell Sam!) or go down to the range for some shooting or knife-throwing practice. Sam and I get together and spar a while every day, and play cards at night, but everything is the fucking same, day after day. I need to get out of here, for a while at least. Maybe I should call Cas? It would be nice to have a wingman who’s immune to disease. 

Maybe not. Let him come to us if he wants. It has to be his choice.

**Another Day**

Outside! I figured I had to get Baby out and running, at least to make sure her battery doesn’t run down. 

It’s strange to see that the world is still there, that everything still looks the same, except...empty. But the farmers are still out working their fields—they have to, I guess. The cows are still grazing, dogs barking in front yards. But not many people outside. The stores are pretty much all closed, main streets in town deserted, like in the old Day-After-Apocalypse movies. But outside the city, people are still working in their gardens or sitting on their porches. They wave at me as I drive past, and I wave back. It’s nice to see others are just as bored as me. 

**Another Day**

The daily drives are making me feel better, and maybe helping Sam, too. He seems a little more relaxed. I didn’t realize I was driving him crazy—I thought I was staying out of his way so he could spend all his time with his books. Maybe he needs something else to do. I’ll see if I can find something that might keep us both busy.

**Next Day**

Found it! I stayed up half the night trolling all the weird-news sites and listening to police reports, and found a report of some “exsanguinated” cattle and at least one missing farmer in a small town a couple of hours from here. And a report of strange people hanging around a supposedly deserted barn, even though the police can never find anyone there whenever they check.

Sounds like a vamp nest to me. And it sounds like something Sam and I can really dig our teeth into (pardon the expression). At least it’ll get us out of here, and maybe kick Sam out his funk. 

It’ll be fun. I’d better wake Sam up.


End file.
